Scarred
by Yogscastrules
Summary: Edward Scissorhands has been in his mansion for too long and the people want the truth. What it is or why he doesn't leave is a mystery. A mystery to all who don't listen. Includes OC. Special thanks to MyDimension. T for depressing talk and scissors...
1. Prologue

**Scarred**

**Prologue**

Where should I start? I suppose there's nowhere to start. I never had a start and my life is always the same and always will be. It's always the same every day, every night. I'm left unwanted and unnoticed. Father thought of me as his world and the best thing he'd ever made. Everyone else thinks of me as a Frankenstein, a creation that should have never been created. An accident even. I wish father was here now. I need him. Without him I fade away and start to slip out of existence, just how the beings want me to be. I wish Kim was here now. I need her. Without her, my artificial heart breaks. It breaks into the little cogs it's made of and can never be put back together.

But this is not a time for sorrow and grief; this is a time for thought. To think back over my life. Well I didn't have much of a life. And when I did the beings just ruined it. I don't see why they hate me. I never did anything and that's the problem with my life I suppose. I never had a chance to live it, I never did anything.

At the minute I'm just stuck here, doing nothing for the rest of eternity. Well at least the beings got what they wanted. They wanted me to die and they think I did. But they don't understand, I can't die. I'm not alive in the first place. No start, no end. That doesn't make much sense and the beings don't like things not making sense. They don't like monsters. They don't like me.


	2. What is Life?

**Scarred**

**What is Life?**

I look out a window in the mansion. I'm sat on the window sill. My legs are resting on the window sill. I've done this too many times and I need to remind myself where I am to keep my sanity. All the children outside seem so happy. I wish I had a chance of being a child. But no, I'm not even a real person. I question sometimes why I was ever invented. I know father wouldn't like me asking that, so I try not to. But doesn't all life have a purpose? Doesn't every life have something to live for? Well so far I don't. I'm just stuck here in this mansion watching everyone else's life. But it's all the same; they all live the same life. They are born, they die. What happens in between is up to them. Well they say that but most times they can't avoid the future and terrible fates that lie ahead of them.

The children are nosier this time of year. It's summer and the heat makes my hands unbelievably hot. I don't see why the children enjoy it so much. You get burnt and dehydrated. Well it's probably because they have nothing better to do. I have something to do; it's my 'purpose'. But I only do it in the winter, even though the winter has a habit of making my hands go stiff. But now, here I have nothing. Well it isn't my actual purpose. I had to completely change life after father died. He never completed me and because of that I can't lead a normal life. But if I was completed I still wouldn't be _normal_. I would never be accepted. Never treated like a being should be.

I thought I had been accepted when I met Kim and she looked at me as me. She didn't take one look at me then run away screaming like the others. It's too bad we couldn't be together, I suppose it would be like beauty and the beast. She's long gone now though. So have all the families. They all grew old and died thinking that I was dead as well. Their children still know about me though. They all know the rumours and horror stories. Kim was the only one who understood me and knew that I was kind at heart, that I wasn't a killing machine who loved to stab knives at everyone I could see. I hope she told someone, anyone. If not I'll start to believe the rumours myself.

They children are playing baseball outside. I never got to play a proper game of baseball. It was hard to hold the bat and I sort of chopped it in half when I tried. Also they didn't really tell me the rules so I didn't know what to do. But these children, they're really good at it. I don't blame them they practise every day. In fact I watch them every day and I've picked up a few tips on how to play. All day every day I sit by this window watching time pass, at night I star gaze. They are so pretty. Every one of them is different, like beings. Except I'm way different. The beings don't like different. Everyone would be the stars and I would be a rocket. I get in everyone's way and pollute the space around me. I'm unwanted. I'm the outcast.

I try and leave my home but I get sent back. There seems to be a wall in between us and I can't get past it, I can never be like the normal beings. A crash causes me to blink and return to reality. It's my first blink in weeks. So long have I been daydreaming and passing the time. So long have I been sat here watching life shape without me. I look around the room. My joints feel stiff. My arm gives a creak when I move it from its stationary position. The crash had brought me back to life, back from the dead. But I can never die and that is worse than dying. I force my legs to move. They jolt and I take my feet off the window sill and slam them onto the damp floor. It feels good to have my feet on the floor. I stand up, leaving the low wooden seat which I had made my home. My real home. Not this whole mansion that belongs to father, it's too big. I hate big and busy places they send me into a panic and cause me to lose control of my anger. I still don't understand emotions. They're too complicated. But sadness I understand, I feel it every day. Ever since father and Kim died.

I walk down the room, taking small fast steps. My feet thump against the floor and every step I take causes the mansion to shake. My hands can't go by my side and need to stay a fixed distance from my body. The joints in my arms don't allow them to go there and the fact that my hands… it doesn't matter. I continue to walk down the room until my foot meets glass producing a scratching noise. I look on the ground. There's lots of glass. I can faintly see my reflection in it. I see a monster, an unloved monster. I'm obviously not a real being. My skin is far too pale. It's like snow, the thing I create in the winter. It would be like softly settled snow but deep scars keep it rough and ridged.

I look next to the glass, a baseball lies there. I try to pick it up but it rolls around, teasing me. I grab at it harder but end up tearing at it and leaving little scratch marks in it. My eyes water as tears form in them but I can't cry, I'm not alive. Why can't I pick it up? I just want to play.

**Thanks for reading! I want to see what you think so leave a review. You're all so FANTASTIC for reading this (And it does get better so stay tuned)**


	3. My Lonely Fate

**Scarred**

**My Lonely Fate**

A loud knock echoes throughout the mansion. I pause at trying to pick up the ball and peer out the window. Some of the children have gone. I swish my head round to the door. No one has entered here in a long time. They can't come in here. They can't touch that door. Kim touched that door and that's the last thing I have left of her. Another knock shakes the walls. I can faintly hear muttering. I turn back to the ball and open my hand out like a fan. I lie my hand on the ground facing up and scoop the ball up. I give a sort of smile. I know that was a happy thing that happened but sadness is what's driving my life. Nothing could ever change that.

I balance the ball in my hand and steadily stand up. I hear the front door creak open and soft footsteps walking up the stairs. I need to act fast. My whole weight transfers to one leg as I lean back. I think this is how you throw. I hold my hand back as far as it can go then, using all my might, I toss the ball out of the broken window. It flies through the air, like a rocket. Then it plummets to the ground like me. I always get pushed out of the way and forced to stay on my own.

The ball lands in the middle of the road. It bounces when it hits the floor, about two or three times. A child picks it up and throws it into the air. He catches it again. I hear talking from outside my door then it gets fainter. The front door slams shut and the mansion is left quiet again. Once again I'm stuck with my lonely fate. I walk to the window sill again and watch the children. The ones that were once walking in here return outside shouting about their experience in the haunted house. Looks like fathers house has turned into an exhibit. I don't think he'd like that.

Most of the children go back to playing baseball but there's one. One that's older than the others. Maybe she's in her late teens. She has her hands in her hoodie pockets. But she's not playing baseball. Instead she's looking up here, looking deep into my eyes. Wait a minute she's looking at me. She isn't ignoring me. She gives a small smile before a child drags here to be a backstop or whatever you call it. I've never played a proper game of baseball. I don't know what you call it. But I'm left alone again.

That short moment when that girl noticed me was the best moment in the whole of my artificial life. Yes Kim was special to me and nothing will compare but she married and got on with her life, leaving me on my own. Forgotten. Useless. But that girl. She noticed me. Her muddy brown hair and lightly tanned face stays in my mind. I watch her playing baseball. She catches the ball with one hand, her other hand in her pocket. She looks fearless, the way the ball is thrown directly at her face but then she catches it with her hand at the last minute.

Fearless is good. It means there's nothing scary about me. There shouldn't be anyway, but it's even better now she's fearless. There's something good in my life again. There's someone good.


End file.
